I, Horndog
by toadstoolcouch
Summary: Missing scene from "Insane in the Mainframe." Roberto does terrible things to Fry in their shared cell. Slash, extreme, non-con. Implied Bender/Fry at the end


"What's the matta? You scared?" Roberto taunted in an especially grating screech. His eyes glowed in the darkness of the cell, and the sheer, cumbersome bulkiness of his body made the tiny space even tinier.

Pressed against the wall, mere inches from the crazy robot that haunted his dreams when scattered images of Leela and food and a real bed didn't, Fry quivered. His whole body was alive with terror, despite how exhausted and starved it was.

"N-n-n-" he whimpered, trying to meld himself into the wall as the robot got closer. He imagined he could see a very human like expression on his face, but after being stuck in a robot loony bin for so long (by now he'd lost count, but it seemed like a lifetime), Fry imagined he could see distinct facial expressions on the robots.

"Noticeably?" Roberto taunted, jerking his head forward in a sudden, explosive retort. Fry cringed and squeezed his eyes shut. "I'll say! Now stand back, I gotta practice my stabbin'!" With a crazy, high pitched laugh and the extra bright glowing of his eyes, Roberto stabbed wildly in every direction, and Fry jerked this way and that like a spring under pressure. His muscles stole energy from anywhere it could to work as fast as they did with so little food and rest to draw from.

"No!" he screamed, as he felt the wind of the knife slicing the air right by his face. "Stop, please! Please!"

"Hey! Keep it down in there!" Bender shouted from the next cell over. "I'm tuning my banjo!" And he actually did what he said he would. Random twanging sounded as the insane robot's wild stabbing drove Fry to his knees, for by now even his wild terror was not enough to keep him jumping wildly about.

"Geez Red, quit cowerin'! You call yourself a robot!" Roberto teased, and sliced the air just above Fry's head. Fry's already stressed and overworked brain screamed with blind panic, certain it would get impaled any second.

He half shrieked, half hissed pathetic pleas for his life, cowering with his hands at his face, body doubled over so far his face was practically in his lap. "I didn't squeal on you, I swear to God! I didn't-" he rattled off desperately, hoping that Roberto did indeed suspect him of that sin, so that he could be reasoned with.

"Get up!" Roberto snapped, pulling him up by the shoulder of his loose fitting inmate robe. It barely offered any covering, with the open flap in the back, but it was more than the actual robots got (Fry had even gone to the head doctor about this, telling him that obviously the staff saw him as a human if they'd give him clothing, but the doctor simply "reminded" Fry that obviously he was a very realistic android, and the clothing was in consideration of his shame program).

"Then what am I doing in here?" Roberto snarled, slamming his fist into the wall right by Fry's head, making him scream and feel faint.

"What's going on in there?" Bender yelled through the walls, and Fry started to yell an answer but Roberto covered his mouth with his hard metal hand. Fry closed his burning, leaking eyes and hoped the pain in his mouth wasn't from teeth being knocked out.

"Nothing, pal," Roberto answered. "We're just having a screaming contest." His eyes seemed to glow even brighter and fiercer than normal as he stared right at Fry. Slowly he took his hand off and pressed the tip of his knife into Fry's throat.

Gasping, Fry had to really concentrate to say what Roberto expected him to say. "Uh...ya!" he croaked in a very weak and half hearted voice, but Bender seemed to buy it.

"Ok, but it's annoying the Hell outta me."

"Don't worry, Bender, we'll try to be quiet." He lifted Fry's jaw with the knife, gently cutting a bit of the skin just next to the jugular. He said quietly, "Right, Red?"

Fry shuddered and nodded, his eyes wide and fixed hard on Roberto's. Roberto laughed in a low, dark sound and slid the knife down Fry's neck. The sweat let it slip easily, without cutting. It almost tickled. It snagged on Fry's collar.

"You're a funny looking robot, Red. Wonder what color you are on the inside." Roberto stared with an expression that could have been called a smirk, if a robot could do so. "Red?"

Anger welled inside Fry, bubbling just under the more immediate fear. For far too long his very humanity had been doubted. "I'm not a robot," he whimpered, daring to glare at Roberto.

The robot laughed explosively, then gave his knife a good, quick swipe. It sliced a long, jagged line down the dress-like robe, broke open an inch or two of skin, but miraculously did not cause any severe damage. The sudden superficial cut jolted Fry into a panic and forced out a barely suppressed squeal. He longed to look down and survey the damage, but didn't dare even breathe too heavily.

Roberto ripped the robe all the way open, leaving Fry in a filthy, tattered excuse for clothing and totally exposed to the psychotic robot and his knife.

"O God," Fry sobbed, bracing for an attack. "Please don't hurt me!"

"Don't think I ever seen this before," Roberto said, slipping the knife between Fry's legs, lifting what he found, and Fry whimpered and resisted the urge to throw his hands down there to protect himself. He wished so hard for Bender to somehow, magically appear, he almost saw him. He'd even be happy to see Nurse Ratchet suddenly show.

"What's it for?"

Fry stammered, nearly laughing at the absurdity of the question. But the sharp poke of the knife tip at his slit, while a robot hand held the shaft still, reminded him sure enough that this was no joke.

His eyes were so sore and filled with tears, he had to blink furiously to see. At first he felt too ashamed to answer, so used to the robots there treating his bodily needs as abnormal and unimportant, but he was prompted to scream out an answer when Roberto squeezed.

"Waste removal!" he yelled breathlessly. It sounded like a fairly robotic term, to boot. "Please, take it out..." he whispered.

"Huh?" Roberto asked, cocking his head. "What, this?" he turned the knife just a tiny bit, but enough to stretch the opening painfully. Fry begged loudly.

Roberto did so, but not without a demeaning chuckle that made Fry hate his fragile, vulnerable body and his weakness to pain. He inspected the knife tip. "Hmmm, this is interesting," he said. "You've got two different kinds of fluids coming out of you. This-" he showed Fry the knife, and the human blushed, his shoulders dropping in embarrassment. "And this." Roberto swiped his metal digit down the fresh, bleeding cut. "Why is that?"

Fry knew why, and even the threat of getting cut again could not prompt him to answer. He was shocked and ashamed as it was, even if he didn't try to explain it to Roberto. For while one of those fluids in question was indeed red, the other was the tell-tale white.

Thankfully, though, Roberto didn't wait for an answer, but became interested in something else. He turned Fry around, slammed him into the wall and kicked his legs apart. "So if that hole's for waste disposal, then what's this one for?" Roberto didn't touch him there, but Fry recoiled as if he did.

He forced himself to answer, "S-same thing. It's a...secondary...valve." He figured it would be easier to answer in as technical a way as he could think of. It was too much work to argue anymore, anyway.

"Exit only, right?" Roberto asked, but in a strange tone of voice that chilled Fry to the bone. It sounded almost... sarcastic. He didn't have time to answer, before the robot slapped his hand hard right between Fry's legs, with the round part of his cold hand pressing against the hole in question. Fry choked on his breath and started clawing the wall with his fingers, crying softly with apprehension. Even the worst experiences he could remember seemed like paradise compared to what he knew in his gut was about to happen; he'd listen to Dr. Zoidberg's life story five times over if that could save him from being raped by a robot.

"It's pretty tight," Roberto said quietly, pressing a finger at the entrance; Fry shuddered and broke out in a cold sweat, pleading him to stop in a tiny voice, too quiet to hear. Roberto reached around to hold Fry's shoulder with his knife holding hand, the tip pointing towards Fry. Thusly braced, Roberto forced his finger inside, and while Fry was not new to such an experience, he still screamed and writhed as if he were.

Fry had to be careful to keep his face away from the knife Roberto held so close, while the robot fucked him with one of his fingers. It was sleek metal, but still dry and horribly uncomfortable. But as Roberto moved in and out, faster and faster, there was a heat building up that was beginning to feel really good, right at the entrance.

And by now Fry could feel his dick, hard and erect, rubbing against the wall in rhythm. In just a few seconds, the mood had shifted from victimized terror to urgent physical need, and all because Fry had not had the opportunity to take care of himself since he was committed. At first it was because he had no privacy, but as the days wore on and his need grew to painful proportions, Fry took to stroking himself in the day room, not caring who saw. But then he was always discovered, always stopped, either by a curious robot badgering him or the staff physically stopping him by force.

This was also the most he had been touched since getting locked up.

Just as Fry was really starting to enjoy it, panting loudly and without shame, Roberto dug in as deep as he could go and yanked Fry's body back, off the wall, and against himself. He said darkly into his ear, "I'm just playin', Red. I know what this is for, at least, I know what a human uses it for. I gotta say, you're the most accurate, detailed fuckin' model I've ever seen."

Fry didn't know if he should argue or not. In any case, he didn't have to time to say anything, before Roberto continued, "I see you like my finger, but let's see how you like my _other_ finger." He chuckled and ripped his finger out. Roughly he shoved Fry to the floor, where it was too small for him to extend his legs all the way. Roberto ripped the destroyed robe off Fry and crouched over him. "Now get on your hands and knees, you know the drill!"

Fry shook with fear, but he tried to stand up for himself. "No way!" he said in a pathetic voice. Even as much as he feared it, a part of him wanted it.

"How you gonna tell me no when I'm the one with the knife!" Roberto screamed, pouncing on Fry, pinning him to the floor in seconds. Fry's head was slammed against one wall, while his legs were bent painfully and smashed up against the other wall. More out of instinct than anything else, Fry struggled against the robot, but he couldn't even knock the knife out of Roberto's hand. Not that that would give him any advantage; Roberto would hardly feel the stab of a knife, while Fry's soft flesh would easily bruise and bleed from a hard enough impact of metal.

"Bender!" Fry screamed out, too desperate to think.

Roberto clamped a hand on Fry's throat, just barely closing off his airway, and poked his knife between his legs. He growled, "You wanna keep this stupid thing? Huh, do ya?"

Fry whimpered, unable to answer at first, but finally nodded when Roberto asked again, digging the knife tip in even deeper

"I'll cut this fucking thing off and stab you in the face five times over by the time Bender gets here, you understand, Red?" he warned.

Sobbing bitterly, Fry nodded again and forced himself to try to calm down. Bender hadn't answered in all this time, and Fry wasn't sure what he'd say if he had.

"Now be a good machine and turn over, get on all fours, and lemme knife-fuck you," Roberto said, letting go of Fry's throat. He moved the knife from the human's crotch, but kept it close to his body, ready to strike in far less than a second.

Shaking hard, Fry slowly turned over, struggling in the tight space. He had to slide the tops of his feet up along the wall, and pressed his head against the other wall. Roberto stepped over him, putting a leg on either side, then pushed Fry's shoulders down, forcing his arms to bend at the elbows, forcing his face almost to the floor. Consequently, Fry was bent in a far less dignified way, but more open to penetration.

"Roberto, please, please don't..." his prayer trailed off as he felt the tip of the knife tease around his entrance, bouncing off all the tiny folds that only something as sensitive as the tip of a knife could detect. He bit his forefinger, fully expecting to bite down hard on it to keep himself from screaming. He could not risk angering Roberto in his position.

Roberto pushed the tip in just a tiny bit, not enough to cut or hurt, but enough for Fry to tense up, clench his fists, squeeze his eyes shut. At this point, being relaxed would not help him at all. A cock he could handle, but not a blade.

He felt Roberto take the knife off for a second, but then press against him once again. But this time Roberto pushed in further without warning, making Fry desperately cut his scream short. He bit his hand so hard it bled.

But Roberto was fucking Fry with the handle of the knife, not with the blade itself. It took a few thrusts, but eventually Fry started to realize this. At first he mistook the heat from the friction and his own sweat as blood gushing from the cuts, but even in his stressed state had to notice that it wasn't hurting that badly.

In time the pleasure was overtaking the pain, and Fry was overcome with the agonizing need that has been a part of his life since puberty. Maybe it was the position or the texture of the knife handle, but it felt even better now. Plus, Roberto could push much more length into him, and he passed over the sweet spot with almost every thrust. The dry friction was painful, just as his knees and hands and everywhere else that had to press against the unforgiving wall ached, but he could easily forget all that.

Roberto pumped in and out faster and deeper, gripping Fry's hip with his free hand, while the human raised his ass higher, demanding more, and his mouth hung open, eyes closed. Balancing with one forearm flat on the floor against the wall, Fry took a vicious, squeezing hold of his cock and pumped so roughly it hurt.

But despite, or perhaps because of, the wretched pain, Fry was desperate to come, and jacked off as if not for pleasure, but as an agonizing, torturous job. And if he had just a few more minutes, he would have succeeded, but Roberto ripped the handle out and snatched a handful of Fry's hair and shook him hard. Only at the threat of whiplash did Fry let go of himself, and even then it was a barely conscious act. Roberto shook him so hard he couldn't think straight for a few seconds.

Leaning over him, Roberto said, "Ooops! My mistake, Red, I used the wrong end!"

Fry got to savor a split second of utter horror before Roberto "corrected" his mistake. He dropped Fry's head back down, letting it slam on the wall, then knelt between Fry's legs to keep them open, positioned the tip of his knife at the hole, and pushed it in all the way.

Fry had thought he would be able to prepare for this and safely bite his hand, but there could not possibly be any preparation for this. He threw his head back and hollered, oblivious to anything but the furious pain and unmistakable rivulets of blood streaming down his legs. He was clawing at the walls, as if trying to dig his way through inches of steel with his fingernails, screaming bloody murder as Roberto stabbed in and out, fucking him in earnest, just as he had warned.

His cries were dying and all feeling fading as the door to the cell zipped open.

He faded in and out of consciousness some time later, while the specialists repaired him. The infirmary was an open area, with almost no beds, since few robots would need them. And, because they thought he was a robot, the doctors (or mechanics) did not use any anesthesia or pain killers, so Fry woke up groaning with pain. He could feel the instruments sewing him back up and cauterizing the incisions. As the injuries were mended, the sharp pain from the cuts faded, but he was still badly bruised and sore in the entire area. But of course the doctors would not detect that.

Knowing they would most likely refuse him, Fry weakly asked for something for the pain. Just as he suspected, they ignored him, probably dismissing him as just being stupid or crazy. So he dropped his head on the solid metal bed and let the tears dribble lazily.

He was grateful to have escaped that place, true, but he could not relax unless he could be certain he would not have to share a cell with Roberto again. He'd gladly "power down" in the janitor's closet or the cafeteria, anywhere, to escape having to be locked up with a potentially violent robot.

And he kept wondering if Bender had any idea what was going on, and why he didn't do anything. Unless it was because of him he was out here at all...

A doctor came over. He was a robot, like all the others, but somehow looked more important than the others. He inspected Fry's body, gently pushing his legs apart and peering in with a flashlight. "Just a few more loose ends," he said in a cheery, but still artificial voice, and inserted a long, thin instrument, stretching the edge of the entrance with a finger. He had just been rescued from being raped with a knife, and yet already Fry was hungry for release; he'd been locked up for too long to feel bad about such things anymore.

So immediately giving in to his bodily needs, Fry rolled his hips up and spread his legs, moaning softly as the doctor inadvertently pleasured him. With his face flat on the bed, he stroked himself with one hand and groped the rest of his body that he could reach with the other, getting very close in just a few minutes.

The doctor pulled everything out when he was done, and just watched as Fry kept going, groaning and panting and drooling. His eyes were slits, just able to tell that now a few robots were watching curiously, and that only made Fry burn with desperation. He feared them all, unable to trust a single one. He might have been fixed this time, but he was sure that soon, that night even, he would be shoved into a tiny, musty cell with a machine that might explode on him, rape him, or outright disembowel him, and that was even if he managed to survive through the day. He'd long since believed in the back of his mind that he would die here, amongst uncaring and hostile robots, but for the first time since he arrived, he was really living. No one believed he was a human, but then again no one here could do what he was doing now.

And then he saw Bender, just out of the corner of his eye. He rolled over on his back, his hand never leaving his dick, as he watched his friend, his one friend in the world as far as he was concerned right now, approach him and stare down at him with those same lifeless, glowing eyes that Roberto sized him up with. He couldn't be sure if it was Bender who saved him or how; Bender had done nothing to help him or show that he cared since they got there.

But it didn't matter what he believed, he was so close to the edge and for once no one was stopping him. With one hand tight on his dick and the other grabbing Bender's hand, Fry finally released the torment of his confinement and collapsed in his own decidedly human mess.

THE END


End file.
